Chapter Nineteen
Someone tapped the side of the cubicle. “You done with your client reports?”
Spencer looked up from his report. “Winding down now.”
“Okay. Just wondered because they’re coming due.”
“I know.” This was the one part of his job Spencer didn’t like. He took comfort in the knowledge that the paperwork was only a small portion of it, as opposed to the entire day it had taken up at the insurance office. He forced himself to buckle down and get through it.
As he got ready to go, a former client greeted him. He smiled in recognition at the recently minted guidance counselor. “How’ve you been?”
“Pretty good. Things are a little hectic at school now, what with early decision college applications and all, but swimming helps de-stress me.”
“That’s good, and you look great.” His eyes were bright, and his upper body looked more toned than when he and Spencer first met.
“Thanks in part to you. I didn’t think I liked exercise, but you pointed me toward something I like doing and even look forward to.
” Seeing firsthand how he’d been able to help people — now that was something Spencer liked about his job.
The encounter lifted his spirits and buoyed him up the stairs when he got home.
He unlocked his front door and gaped at his apartment in horror.
A drawer hung open, wet towels were dropped on the floor, and the entire place smelled like last night’s dinner.
He ducked his head into the sleeping alcove to confirm his fears.
Between the scattered pillows and tossed covers, the bed looked like a bomb had hit it.
Worst of all, one bowl of half-eaten ramen sat on his nightstand. Another had spilled on the rug, leaving congealed noodles, limp greens, and a small continent of a stain.
It looked like someone had broken in, but he had only himself to blame.
Himself and Misty. He sighed and started cleaning, kicking himself for not being more careful with leftovers that would’ve tasted great today.
All the while, he hoped to God the food hadn’t attracted pests and the towels hadn’t been there long enough to lead to mildew.
After he’d taken out the garbage, he opened his fridge in search of something else for dinner.
The door was lined with protein shakes, and the shelves were dotted with odd produce and packages of meat he didn’t feel up to cooking tonight.
The freezer revealed a stack of Trader Joe’s meals that he didn’t remember buying, but he probably had an occasion like this in mind when he did.
He watched his dinner rotate in the microwave and felt confronted with a sense that his life had taken a downturn.
****
About three hundred miles away, Misty joined the rest of the bobsled combine for dinner at a five-star lodge near the hotel.
The tables were pushed together to form one long banquet table big enough to accommodate forty-some women.
A meal card had come with the paperwork, almost like a wedding invitation, and the waitstaff came out with the food once everyone was seated.
“How’s yours?” Misty asked Tish around a mouthful of beef tenderloin.
Tish paused in the act of scraping sauce off her chicken breast. “Aside from this side of sugar, pretty good. It’s close to what I’d usually eat, but a bit of an upgrade.”
“They did well for vegans too,” the girl next to her said, gesturing to a dish of mushroom risotto. “Everybody thinks you need animal products to succeed as an athlete, but I’m going to change that!”
“Good luck.” Part of Misty wondered how she was going to do that without enough protein, but she kept that to herself. “My trainer says the good thing about this sport is you can eat whatever you want.”
The anecdote filled her with renewed shame at how she and Spencer had left things. As soon as she got the chance, she’d call him to apologize.
Before the conversation could continue, and before she could keep going on this train of thought, Ms. Coolidge tapped a knife against her glass to get everyone’s attention.
After she introduced herself to the group with the same spiel from the bus, she went into a speech about the significance of the gathering.
“As you may be aware, two-woman bobsled and women’s monobob haven’t been sports for long, but they’ve caught on quickly among athletes and fans alike.
If things go well with four-woman sledding at the World Winter Games, Olympic officials are likely to look on it more favorably. ”
She paused to let the significance of what they were doing sink in. Misty had always known this was a first for this particular sporting event, but there had been no word of the broader implications. If this worked out, would she be eligible for the Olympics?
Ms. Coolidge’s voice cut across the murmurs.
“As you’ll remember, you all had to submit urine samples for drug and pregnancy tests upon arrival so we can make sure everyone here is eligible.
However, Sam, the rest of our team, and I aren’t going to spend this time babysitting you.
We accepted you to this combine with the assumption that you are grown women and accomplished athletes who can manage their own lives and know how to behave in this setting.
If you decide to spend your nights out drinking or doing God knows what, it will undoubtedly come through in your performance the next day and count against you in the long run.
“That being said, I would be surprised if any of you felt up to a night of carousing. Over the next few weeks, you are going to work extremely hard, the hardest of your life for some of you, as you go through workouts and get in the sled starting early in the day and into the evening. But for now, we welcome you here and congratulate you on reaching this level.”
The waitstaff had offered wine, but no one appeared to have taken advantage.
Even Ms. Coolidge looked like she was sticking with Perrier, and everyone raised their own sparkling water to her toast. Misty joined them, feeling awed and intimidated at the same time.
She was determined to not screw it up and to impress everyone.
As the last plates were cleared away, Misty glanced down at her phone.
Nothing from Spencer, but her mom had sent a text saying she hoped the trip had gone well.
Amidst the world’s most intimidating introductions on the bus, she’d forgotten to text.
She felt guilty and called on the way back to the hotel.
“I’m in,” she said after they’d greeted each other. “We just had dinner, we’re on the way to the hotel, and the real work starts tomorrow. Good for me!”
She sang the last sentence in the same tone she always heard, and it took a minute before her mom answered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Janice asked in a wounded-sounding voice.
“That’s what you say to me every time I do almost anything, so I thought I’d get ahead of it.” Misty spoke lightly, but her exasperation couldn’t help coming through.
Her mother sighed. “It’s tricky because whenever you do something completely out of my frame of reference, like going freelance or joining any of these teams, I don’t want to ask too many questions and sound like I’m being unsupportive. I’m just trying to cheer you on as best as I can.”
“Thanks.” Misty softened a touch at that, and the rest of the call was easier to take for it.
A few feet away, Tish was ending a call of her own and looking somewhat disgruntled. “Your dad again?” Misty asked after she hung up.
“My mom.” After her parents had split up, it looked like Tish had divided topics of conversation accordingly: athletic endeavors with Darnell, and almost everything else with Caroline.
“What’s it like? Did I meet any nice people?
She made it sound like I was at summer camp instead of competing for a spot on the team. ”
“Well, it’s a tricky line to walk,” Misty mused. “Yeah, we’ll be competing against everyone here, but we don’t want to alienate anyone we could wind up in the sled with. That could make things awkward when the final team’s announced.”
As they walked into the hotel in silence, Misty reflected on what a whole new animal this was going to be.
Every time she’d been at an away meet in high school and college, competing for the one victory in her track events, the coaches had kept everyone under lock and key.
Her training sessions had gotten her in shape and added structure to her days, but they hadn’t quite prepared her for this.